


Fate's Domain

by Vivian_Oxford



Series: Fate's Domain [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Demons, Drama, Epic, F/M, Fantasy, Gods, Reincarnation, Romance, Wolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 05:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17975483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivian_Oxford/pseuds/Vivian_Oxford
Summary: The story of Gods and Demons and the ever-spinning wheel of Fate.  One human woman's mistake could destroy everything.  But can her love save them all?  A God of War, a cursed forest, and a great Wolf whose wrath knows no end.  A story of sacrifice and reincarnation spread across hundreds of years.  Witness the beginning of the legend and the fight to save the heart's greatest desire.





	Fate's Domain

In a world of gods and monsters, she was but a simple maiden. Delicate in the way that pretty petals bend and arc while bathed in the morning sun. Quiet and beautiful as fresh snow that shrouds a harsh and unforgiving landscape. Simple. Untouched.

But a fire burned in her eyes. Bright and determined, bringing color to her face above cheeks flushed from exertion. The hike had not been an easy one, nor was it ever. The terrain was rough and the road unkempt; the villagers did not dare venture this close to the territory just beyond the creek ahead. It was for this reason that she begged the gods to not let her go back empty-handed. Surely gods rewarded courage.

She was not without fear however. The rules were strict and her village, superstitious. Those that took what belonged to the Wolf often suffered between the Wolf’s great jaws. She moved swiftly between the trees, just outside that forbidden line marked only by a small, cackling stream that took its frigid water down the rugged mountain. As long as she did not take her game from the northern bank, she would not be breaking any covenants. 

Her fingers, numbed by the cold autumn evening, worked to free her bow and notch an arrow. She crouched in an area of brush, thick with leaves that remained forever crimson and adorned with thicket thorns that pricked uncomfortably at her skin whenever she shifted her weight. A fine enough hiding place midst a forest that had not seen winter, spring, nor summer for a little over two decades. 

She clenched her teeth at a sharp ache in her belly. Hunger, rearing its ugly head to remind her why she was here. Food had become scarce in the village and worsened with every new year. Their harvests were small, the prey they once hunted with ease and good sport had fled the mountainside, and their livestock were plagued with illness and infertility. Though she had only been a small child when the god of hunt turned his back upon the village, it was only now that the situation had become dire enough for her to seek meat at the edge of what could safely be called her own territory.

She became as still as the wind, a force that she had not felt touch her face in many moons. The stillness was easy, something she practiced in her own home to escape the gnawing feeling that her life was passing by quickly and without purpose. A statue, made of porcelain pale stone and eyes an enchanting shade of amber, crowned in a wreath of hair whose color resembled the shiny blue-black of a crow’s feather. A statue that rarely went unnoticed, as she inherited a beauty quite like her mother’s and still remained unwed. Her moments of stillness may not have rendered her invisible while at home, but had a way of shutting out the unfriendly reminder that life was fast, cruel, and uncontrollable. 

She focused on keeping her hands from shaking on her only weapon as she glimpsed a dark form slinking through the woods at her left. Between the thick branches and broad trunks, she could make out its size. A buck? A bear? She cursed under her breath. Her inexperience at archery would be enough to get her killed if she missed a large target like this one, and she had never aimed at a predator before. Even if it were not the latter, a buck would be difficult to bring down for a young woman whose few trophies were measly at best. A predator would be out of the question.

She thought quickly of her options as the creature neared and began to feel beads of sweat rolling down her face. Her hands were shaking hard, her grip on the string loosening. Eyes. Those eyes were alight and flickering through the trees like tiny violet embers. They were not the eyes of a normal beast and that could only mean that the thing padding out from the woods was a God…or a demon. The beast emerged and she readied her bow.

Suddenly she was surging through every memory she had that related to the god of hunt. She knew he was a shapeshifter that could wear the pelt of the Wolf and that he used to meet with the village in his human shape, once upon a time. Rumors said that he had not known his human form for years after being betrayed by a human woman. His anger had festered and his flesh tore away, leaving nothing more than the towering Wolf that watched this mountain and the valley below it. Watched, and punished. The elders who lay out his sacrifices often whispered about the profound darkness within his eyes and how the horns upon his face seemed to become longer and more wicked with time.

She knew he could scent her. She was upwind and it was already turning to face her where she crouched, where she desperately hoped that nature would conceal her from the thing that leveled its gaze to meet her own. Not the god of hunt. Too small and no horns, but definitely a wolf. Whether god-touched or demon, she did not know but saw the muscle in his structure and knew the eyes for what they were. Abnormal. The wolf that stood in place, fur black as night, parted its teeth to grin.

She panicked. It took a step forward and her arrow loosed, whistling through the air to strike the wolf in the shoulder. She covered her mouth in horror, her treacherous hands shaking violently against her lips. He growled, low and guttural, his eyes narrowing in pain and anger. He. She knew it, for as she stood with her bow in hand debating whether to ready for another shot, he let her hear his voice.

“Idiot human. Foolish woman. Do you not know whose mountain you are on?”

She blinked hard, not knowing how she could hear the voice so clearly when it came from a monster without the physical means to form the words. She knew her mistake and knew her life was now in the balance, and very well the lives of those who relied on her. This forsaken creature, another thieving worm like the great Wolf who taxed her people to their near extinction. Perhaps his puppet or just a lowly follower looking for easy meals to mooch off the back of human cattle and a corrupted god. Her hands clenched on the polished wood of her bow, an heirloom never meant to be hers, let alone used by her. Her hands were callused and knuckles bruised from the perpetual toil endured in her village every day. The fight for survival was taking its toll.

Blind to his ebony fur. Blind to his unusual stare. Blind to reason and blind to fate’s unraveling. She could only see red.

“I know very well who claims this mountain, however unjust that claim may be. I know very well that an idiot is someone that steps toward a person who is aiming an arrow at their head. You, wolf, are an idiot.”

Her voice did well to hide the rising tide of panic that thrashed just under her ribcage. And apparently it had taken him aback. His feral snarl had melted into something resembling curiosity and then what could even be called humor, though blood still oozed from where the arrow protruded from his flesh.

“You make a fair point, though your sharp tongue cannot contest with my sharp teeth.” He made a point of raising his lips to give her a good look at what awaited her after this unlucky meeting. She gripped her bow even harder and tried to calculate the time it would take to fire another arrow into this fur-covered harbinger. 

“My tongue cannot, and yet you are the one who has been pierced by my arrow. Tell me, wolf, is it sharp?” 

He made a sound that resembled both thunder and laughter, his eyes twinkling in a way that gave her gooseflesh and made her stomach knot. What was this creature? Why had it not yet ripped her to ribbons, instead seeming to enjoy their banter. Is this how the god of hunt saw their village? Laughable? Or was this just some minor demon, content to watch her make idle threats while it contemplated how best to seek vengeance?

Her anger did not ebb. And it seemed, neither did his amusement. 

“You’ve damaged my pelt, as well as my ego. You’d do well to lower your weapon. You could not kill nor maim me in a way that would bring you satisfaction.” He shook himself roughly, the arrow embedded in his shoulder still bleeding freely though apparently causing him little pain. He was grinning again, which did little to disarm her or her temper.

“My satisfaction would be hard won by any four-legged demon. You frightened me and I shot you. You should be used to things like that, with the way you look. Gods above, with the way you talk, I’m sure you get twice as many arrows as the other demons.” Her voice was clipped and certain, fear backing down to courage. His answering voice was bemused once again, laced with something almost jovial.

“With your obvious disdain for four-legged creatures, perhaps speaking to a two-legged one will finally gain your apology.” His wit was quick and his transformation quicker. In a motion that left her more than bewildered, his massive canine bulk blurred and melted away to reveal the most beautiful, albeit naked, man that she had ever seen.

She gawked. 

He grinned.


End file.
